o brother

o brother, why’d you let my hand go?
don’t you see
that now it’s growing cold,
lost its memory of your skin.
and brother maybe for a while
our hands were clasped so tight
we crushed our fingers,
so for now it feels just right
to spread them wide.
but soon the numbness fades away
and feeling creeps back in,
and brother, winter’s round the bend,
which means cold palms and fingers.
how I’ll wish to run to warm your hand,
but brother I can see
your mind’s made up.
so maybe I will send you mittens in the mail,
and pray you’ll find someone
who loves you with your secrets, like I do,
someone who will know your hands and heart like me,
and never let your hand grow cold.